Klon9
by hts911
Summary: Year 2027: The U.S. has been hit by a life altering virus that could end humanity. Alone, the government's first virus test subject and a robotically inhanced human can stop its spread. "Congratulations kid. You've just survived the zombie apocalypse."
1. Prologue

**AN: So this is weird because this means that I now have 3 different stories for the same pairing goin on at once, but I got the idea and it was completely eating at me to be written. Normally I'm not that into sci-fi, but I've had a combination of 3 inspirations for this fic. 1)Katy Perry's E.T., Which I listened to the whole time I wrote this. 2) Neal Shusterman's Unwind, which is the best book ever that made me think about the world's condition and inspired me to make something that happens in the future. 3) Ghost in the Shell 2: Lost Innocence, which made me cry and also inspired the more robotical and technological aspects of this. Now, connections between the story and my inspirations of it will be hard to find seeing as there are no aliens, no one's getting unwinded (you'd have to read the book to get that one), and the world isn't crawling with cyborgs and robotically inhanced humans. This is actually a somewhat Zombie(its not your typical zombie, in fact zombie doesn't even close to accurately describe it) apocalypse story that takes place in the U. S. of A. Enjoy.**

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><p><strong>Prologue<strong>

I travel in Limbo, mind stranded in the middle of nowhere. Streams of gold light race against the blackness of my closed eyes, dancing their little folk dances with the stars. Dancing…I used to like that. I used to like it a lot.

Who am I?

Who was I?

These questions break me out of my dreamy daze. The beams cease to dance and all my little stars die off, falling the long way to the ground. Polka is dead. This state of limbo is forever. Names? Name? I had one. I still do. People used to say it was pretty, sometimes exotic. So what was it? Confused. I don't know what's going on. Still. Everything is still and I have no explanation for why that is so. Breathe, don't think. Think, don't breathe. Feel. Just feel.

Blind fingers stretch out, nasal passages filling with deep breaths of air. Earth. The scent floods my mind with memories. Dancing happily through meadows, chasing butterflies, rolling like a log. Overjoyed innocence. Peaks of dry substance scratch at my fingers. Grass. And all the memories float away.

Wind blows over my face, my nose wrinkling in understated delight at the feel. Drums play in my ears letting out that hard tribal beat. No. Not drums. Just me. Just me and my heartbeat. Thump, thump. Thump, thump. The images flow through my mind.

Azure eyes. Cocky smirk. Wild blue hair. And my heart's beating nice and heavy. Who? Who? Definitely not me. Him. Him who? Laughter, his laughter, echoes through my head, loud, crazed, and ruthless. Like an alien in my spaceship I'm beamed up, transported to that time, to the mysterious moment that never was. He laughs and I join in this time, shrill screeching resounding in my ears. Who? What? Beam me up and I'm back in Limbo all over again.

Clench my eyes shut, clench my fists closed. 1,000 pound weights holding them down. Breathe in, let it out slow. Open sesame. Light filters through to me, bright and white like a beacon of hope. Immediately I shut it out. Not ready, not ready. But I'm curious. So I open my eyes again, this time slower, pushing through.

I see blue. I see green. I hear birds chirping. Then I hear _it._

"Congratulations, kid. You've just survived the zombie apocalypse."

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><p><strong>AN: I love the last sentence of this, really I do. So yeah, tell me what you all think about it so far, while I start typing up the next chapters. Also, if you don't mind, you guys can check out my other 2 GrimmNel stories that I will be updating on soon. I've actually written out the next chapters for both of them, but have yet typed them up. I was suffering lack of inspiration (which is partially why I started this cuz i was super inspired). So hope you guys like the story thus far and stay tuned in for its next chapter because me and sci-fi is a rarity...despite how many episodes of Star Trek that I've seen.<strong>


	2. Chapter 1

**AN: So yeah, I find myself like way into this story and now since I'm into the real part of it, I will tell readers that expect the unexpected when it comes to the whole zombie thing. I won't go into great detail of it, but I'm not into the classic stlye, or even some of the more modern style, zombies, so I've taken owneership of my characterization of them. Also, this story will be in various perspectives, so every chapter won't come from the same person, but I will alert you as to whose POV it i when it reaches that part of the story (you'll see what I mean). So yeah, check it out.**

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><p><strong>1<strong>

**3 Months Ago…**

TVs across the nation flicked onto the view of CNN. Not just TVs, cell phones, computers, and any electronic item that was able to receive the signal was automatically tuned into the channel. Ready or not, this was happening and no one would have the opportunity to miss what they were about to say. On the screen sat a young man, obviously not used to be in front of the camera and so obviously being fed instructions. His face was panic stricken, splashed with a light sheen of sweat.

He cleared his throat nervously, adjusting his glasses, before beginning to speak. "At approximately 2:15 A.M. Tuesday morning a shipment of an unknown virus was sent over the country to be used as a military weapon. Before it could reach its destination, there was a malfunction in the engineering, causing the plan to shut down mid flight and plummet top the earth. The shipment was lost near the area of and around Las Vegas, Nevada contaminating the water in that area. It has been confirmed that this virus is dangerous and can be easily contracted to others, making it our top priority to keep it from spreading. Under the authority of the government, the city of Las Vegas and surrounding towns have been put under an immediate quarantine to protect the virus from being spread to the outside world by human contact.

On the chance that the virus may have spread by means water ways and food shipment, we suggest that no one consume any food product made in or around that area. To cut down on the likelihood of the virus spreading from drinking contaminated water, the government will be supplying specially purified water that has been saved for times like this. The drinking or use of any water that has not been distributed by government personnel is here by prohibited and to be considered contaminated.

At the moment, the effects of the virus are unknown, but as more information is released, we will keep you all updated. Here, we have created a visual representation of how the virus has been spread and will now go to that. On to you Glen."

From there, another young man, with a voice uncannily like that of Morgan Freeman was projected onto the screen along with a live action map of how the plane had traveled across the country, noticed engines trouble, and the approximation of the locations were it both began to descend and land on the earth's surface. It then showed the steady growing contamination of the water being moved through various pipe lines across the city of Las Vegas, the presentation ending with the showing of the area of land that had been quarantined.

As promised, CNN kept everybody up to date with hourly progress reports and daily overviews of conditions. Strange as it may seem, the nation was not in as much big of a panic as the media output made it to be. As far as everyone knew, the situation in Vegas was being managed so well that there was no word for word to even be spread out of the country and become an issue overseas. The virus remained dormant and the residents of the quarantined areas had yet to make any contact with the outside world. Everything was fine and dandy; that is, until the first outbreak of the change.

**Present Day; Neliel:**

_Laughter rang out from all directions within the park. Breeze blowing through my hair, smile stretched wide across my lips. The epitome of happiness. The sun was shining overhead, beaming down onto my head and that of my orange haired companion giving him a halo like appearance to contrast with the smile on his face. Ichigo Kurosaki; my best friend of 10 years and the little brother that I had always wanted._

_Fortunately enough, we had not been given the 'honor' of being blood related. Seeing as both of us came from equally insane families, the outcome of our families merging together would be apocalyptic for anyone within a 50 mile radius. Personally, I thought his family was hilarious, but I'm at his place enough to get my own fix of them._

_His family was actually somewhat of the reason that we were at the park. Claiming that his house was apparently too crowded with 'over enthused personalities', he had talked me into leaving the sanction of a home and venturing over to the park that we used to frequent back when we were kids. We had been there for nearly 2 hours before deciding to pass up the great outdoors for a trip to the movies. I lead him out the park and down to the nearest intersection where we cold safely cross without getting a ticket for jay walking._

_I chattered away about all the newest movies that I wanted to see, going into great details about the reviews that I'd seen for them on the internet. He listened, cueing me in on the movies that there was 'no chance in hell' of me dragging him into, until we had decided what movie was worth cranking out $13 each worth of ticket money to go see. All the while, I kept one eye on the crosswalk waiting for the lights to light up on 'walk'._

_Excitement building up within me, I grabbed onto his hand, pulling him with me into the street. Ichigo rolling his eyes. The screeching of tires in my ears. I look up, rooted to my spot in fear. An angry truck rooting its head in my direction._

_Truck rolling, glass shattering. Ichigo's hand tightening its grip in mine, pulling me away from an accident to big for either of us to escape. Screams, mine. Then impact. Heart beating loudly in my ears, vision forever in slow motion, body moving through water. I feel nothing. I see nothing. Just nothing._

I wake up in a cold sweat. That nightmare, that memory. I never was able to get over it and I probably never would. Pushing, pushing, forcing those thoughts out of my mind. 'You are unwelcome.' The words ring in my head. Do they help? No. But I like to pretend that they do.

I throw my legs over the edge of my cot, feeling the cold tile under my feet, the bright white walls burning my eyes. Sterile. Extremely so. Trapped inside this world. But I'm not sure if outside is where I want to be. Its crazy how the U.S. just so happened to be struck by a virus on the anniversary of my waking. So ironic, it's almost funny. But at the moment, I'm not much for laughing. Destruction fails to amuse me. Especially not after going through the mechanization.

"Szayel!" I shout the name loud enough to be heard all the way upstairs where I'm positive he isn't residing. "I'm up!"

He curses loudly, confirming that I was right about his location. I'm being loud enough to distract him from whatever he's doing and make his way over to me, a highly irritated expression on his face. "You're going to wake all that I'd rather much keep asleep if you keep shouting in the lab Neliel."

I give him a smile. "Sorry, I'm just really eager to get the day going."

My left arm is grasped in his gloved hands, his fingers running up and down the artificial limb to check for any visible damage. He slides open the side panel on the cover of my arm, sending tingles down the limb as he checks all the settings.

"Curl your fingers into a fist," he demands, voice gentle.

Closing my hand up, I allow him to move it this way and that, checking the flexibility. Strange as it is, I really only feel half of it. It tingles; that's it. Nerves; in this arm, they're artificial and most are just for the sake of still being aware of what the environmental conditions around the limb are. I don't mind, really. They make me feel more normal, more human like, and less like a wonderfully disguised android. ¾ human, ¼ robot. Yep, that's me.

He lets go of my arm, reaching for all the machinery hooked up behind the cot. "All systems in your arm seem to be up and running fine. Now only two more circuits to go." Small circular tabs attach to my temples, sparks of electricity dancing across my skin. "Zoom."

I focus my line of sight on my hand, feeling the discomfort of my pupils whirring across my eyelids. The palm of my right hand stretches with 3 horizontal lines, the smaller ones becoming more noticeable, before the ridges of the prints are clear. All the while the image in my hand is being projected onto the machine's screen so Szayel can observe what I see. My lids begin to twitch, my eyes already overly dry.

"Can I stop now?" I question, the twitch becoming slightly painful.

"Go ahead," he answered, scribbling away on an electronic pad. "Don't know why it always reacts that way." Fingers tilt my head back and I open my eyes up wide, as small drops of liquid are placed into each. Drops no longer sting my eyes, seeing as they aren't human and don't have a fleshy surface, nor do they contain any connection to the nervous system that creates pain. Only the humanoid parts around them have it. That's what the drops are for; to soothe the friction between the eyes and the flesh surrounding them. More tabs are placed on my head. "Only on more for this system left."

I close my eyes as he slips the tablet that he was previously writing on into my hands, and open them once I consider my grip fair enough. One 3 second look at the electronic screen before it goes blank. Typical for me, he's testing the memory within my eyes and brain to see how well I can obtain a photographic image and tap back into it. The image on the tab was actually an essay, already stored away inside my brain.

"By the year 2020 television will be projected directly into our minds?" I ask. The paper had to have been at least a decade old. "I can't believe people actually used to speculate that would have happened by now. Compared tot heir hopes, 2027 must be quite the disappointment."

2027 definitely didn't meet their expectations. The pro-life vs. pro-choice battle is still going on. Cancer only has a vaccine and not a cure. STD's are still on the rise. I've never even seen a jet pack personally. Not to mention, nobody has a flying car that's legal to drive or anything that shoots out laser beams. Pity, but I guess if you count all my "technological advancements" it kind of helps boost our image.

Fingers dance over the back of my neck, pushing my hair out of the way. "Breathe in," is my only warning before Szayel plunges the needle through the skin of the nape of my neck, angling it to meet a nerve at me first vertebrae. I wince on contact, sucking in cold air through clenched teeth, the feeling overall uncomfortable and painful. The machine hooked up to the needle begins whirring, the sounds matching the pace of my heartbeat as I try to rein my breathing in under control.

As always, Szayel tells me it 'won't take long' convincing me that talking about anything will help ease the pain as he checks up on my systems. I recite the essay he had just shown me, each word coming out of my mouth labored and strained. Anything to keep my mind away. Hr's searching through my mind's database, filtering through memories, feelings, and thoughts. Multi-tasking, I can do. Pain is something I have a high tolerance of. But those two things combined with the emotional turmoil of someone scanning through my head create one of the most crippling experiences of my life.

I close my eyes tight, blanking out my mind, reciting the essay backwards. None too soon, I hear Szayel become my savior, telling me he was finished. "Breathe out," he says, swiftly pulling the needle out, the muffled curse escaping from my lips before I have a chance to stop it. He writes down more information before looking back up at me.

"All systems seem to be running fine," he says calmly, before a small smile makes its way onto his face. "I'm pretty sure you've passed and should be able to leave this afternoon. Until then, feel free to watch TV and try on the new clothes that I've left for you upstairs. We both know how today is monumental moment in your existence."

Smirking, I push my hair back so it covers my neck again, rising to my feet. "Monumental for sure. But let's face it; you're going to miss me gracing my presence in your lab. Alas, I have places to see, a country to get to before restrictions happen to get any tighter."

His eyes shine with discontent, obviously disapproving of my plans. "So you really do plan on just leaving, because we've hit a rough patch."

My smirk turns bitter at his words, my hand taking a resting position on his shoulder. Truly, I didn't understand if he just didn't get where I was coming from or was just really set on my not leaving the country. "You know that's not it. War's unnecessary misgivings are none of my concern. I've been in a rough patch for a while and trust me when I say it has nothing to do with the virus. I'm safe and all I want to do is go somewhere where I can feel that way."

"You'll still keep in touch?"

"Of course. We'll digi chat everyday."

I pull him in a hug for good luck, knowing he'll be upset that I'm wrinkling his clothes. "Trust me, I'll be fine." I pull away and head for the stairs to get ready. The world may be falling apart now, but my personal one has been deteriorating for much longer.

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><p><strong>AN: Man I so feel like that typical post apocalyptic, how do we survive after the virus attack story writer. I will admit that some of this concept was inspired by my school's zombie survival club (teaching students how to survive the zombie apocalypse since 2010) that I am not a member of. And in case you guys didn't pick up on it, Nel's the robotic person I spoke of in the Summary. My only worry is that she turns out like that character that is unbelievable because they have too much powers and its just too unrealistic even for something that's fiction. And the whole Szayel and the lab and Ichigo thing will come into play later. Really its not to difficult to get the jist of the Ichigo thing, but I doubt anyone will fully know what I had happen to him. (like really, I wouldn't kill him off so early).<strong>


	3. Chapter 2

**AN: Introducing a new character point of view this time. And because i'm a nice person, i'll tell you that there is a whole lot of profanity in this chapter, but its just the way the charcter thinks, so who am i to corrupt the words with a filter (man, i'm talking like he's real). So, without further ado, i bring you all chapter 2.**

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><p><strong>2<strong>

**Grimmjow:**

My head aches from the bright lights shining across these stark whit walls. My torture, my discontent. They have to be doing this to me on purpose. My wrists itch and I have no way to scratch them. The stitches down my chest are popping and I know that no one is coming around anytime soon with the intention of fixing them back up. The world is full of thousands of douche bags and I was unlucky enough to be caught by a whole organization of them.

"Mr. Jaeggerjaquez, you look uncomfortable."

That voice, I can practically feel its mocking tone running over my skin. That fucker is crazy and he better hope that when I get out I'm too occupied to come kick his sorry ass. Because out if all the jerks in the world, I managed to be captured by this one, one of the biggest assholes in the world.

"Congratulations, Sherlock-fucking-Holmes," I let out just loud enough for him to hear me through the two way intercom system. "Bet ya' think ya' deserve a cookie or somethin' for figuring that on out, huh? But you know, it'd really help my comfort level if you'd unlock my hands."

My captor's acidic laugh rings out through the intercom. "Maybe if you'd play your part in making our experiments easier, I'd think about it."

'Experiments.' That's what the crazy murderer of a scientist called them. I know what playing my part means to him. It means sitting still while the man tries to open me up and rearrange the structure of my internal structures. I'm reluctant enough to participate hen there actually is a surgical procedure that I need done to live and this man expects me to just sit around looking pretty while he pokes and prods away at my organs for kicks and giggles? Fuck no. Not happening. If I'm going down on that lab table, I'm going down with a fight.

I growl lowly, banging my cuffed hands on the wall for effect. "Don't count on it jackass."

This place destroys me. 1 meal a day and 2 bathroom breaks every 24 hours. No bed, all white empty room. They make sure I can't retaliate. State of the arc cuffs stretching from the beginning of my wrists to half way to my elbow, allowing no movement whatsoever in those confined areas. I didn't have enough strength to break out of the restraints when I came in and I still don't. As long as I'm in here, I probably never will collect enough to break them. No physically strenuous work allowed unless I'm being watched as part of 'research'.

So I just sit around all day, not brooding, not being bored. No. I've got plans, big plans. All this time I have, has not gone to waste. An escape plan. I've had more than enough time to perfect it. And today's the day. Today I go rogue. Today…I'm free.

There's a countdown clock in my head that's been in action since I woke up. It brings down the numbers until my plan goes into action. And by action, I mean it counts down the time until I'm allowed to take a piss. No big deal; it's a part of my daily routine and I'm already tuned in on how it's going to go down by now. The guard's gonna stroll in with his big boy toy, the gun, aiming the thing point blank at me as he leads me out my holding cell. Hands still cuffed and gun still pointed at me, he'll allow me to lead the way to the third door on the right, the bathroom. I'll have 5 minutes unwatched to myself, unwatched because the guard has no interest in watching me whip it out and relieve myself. That moment, that short span of 5 minutes, that's it. I either get the fuck out of here or I die trying.

Only 43 minutes left and I can't wipe the smirk off my face. Come 30, and I'm going into my daily bitch fit about every person I've ever ran into. Hitting 15 and I've managed to develop an awful twitch. Striking 5, and I can't sit still from the anticipation. To anyone watching, it looks like I'm in the severe need to take a leak. But to me, myself, and I, the anxiety is getting to me.

Moving close to home and its only 5…4…3…2… The door opens and in walks Mr. Fake Cop himself, the security guard. Sunglasses on, barrel of his gun pointed in my direction, and I instantly know that if I were to try anything suspicious he'd write my name in my own blood over the walls in a second. There's no need for him to tell me to get up, I'm already on my feet before his mouth is even open. My act is on high and I'm more than ready to put this plan into action.

I make my way over to the sliding glass doors that open with a scan of the guard's eye, me leading the way, that gun following close behind me the whole way. One foot, then the other. Door one, two, three, and pause. Another retina scan and we're in for the clear.

Making my way over to the toilet, I throw a quick glance over my shoulder to make sure the guard is facing away. In all reality, I think that part of his job details him keeping an eye on me 24/7 while I'm under his watch, no matter the activates. Thankfully that is a part of the job that has never been fulfilled. Zipper down I go through all the motions, remembering how my mom always used to remind me to 'go before you go' which was usually followed by an insult to my intelligence. I turn the sink on and wash my hands unnaturally slowly. The guard won't look up until that's done. I pull my hands out of the sink, pushing the old school soap pump in the motion detector's eye.

Hands wiping on my pants, I prepare to meet my fate. Back in school they used to try and call me cat boy. I happened to be born with more, feline like attributes. Nothing inhumane, or even borderline abnormal, but I happen to be quite stealthy, fast, and silent in my motions. Today is the day that cursed alter ego gets put to good use.

I stalk up behind the guard silently, breath held in my mouth. My eyes scan over his body, searching for his most vulnerable open area. He's padded, headed to toe bullet proof except for the one area that can't take the weight. His neck. Carefully, more so than I'm used to ever having to be, I pull my arms up at an angle. One exhale of air and I'm swinging them down, slamming them right into my targeted location. I hear a crunch, the sound of his neck breaking between the combined weight of the cuffs and the force behind the swing. He's completely silent as his body falls to the ground.

2 minutes left. That's all the time I have left to get out of this room, and with this cuffs, my first plan is damn near impossible. I'm riding on the hope that the guard has the key on him. Karma must be a bitch who's still holding a grudge against me because the keys happen to be something that the guard is not in possession of. 1 minute.

I launch into plan B, picking the guarding up in my hand and lifting him up to the eye scan by his face. My pinkie pushes up his eyelid, revealing his retinas to the computer's scanners. Click. The sound of the doors unlocking is louder in my ears than it has ever been before. Shoof. Same goes for those doors sliding open.

I stay out of the hall for exactly 5 seconds, stealing the guard's gun and propping it up in my hands in an awkward position that allows my fingers to reach the trigger. One quick glance down the hall and I take off. Legs are weak under my weight, unused to putting in this amount of speed. Gun heavy in my arms, the limbs unfamiliar with carrying this amount of weight. But I've already put the first domino into play and there's no way I can turn back now. Not that I plan to.

Adrenaline pumps hard and heavy in my veins, senses on high, heart thudding loudly in my ears. I'm free. I'm going. I'm on top of the world. This is really happening. Then Karma must not have gotten enough the first time around, for she strikes again as the alarms go off, signaling my escape. Red lights flash and spin, momentarily illuminating the now dark hallways with methodical red bursts.

Shouting fills my ears, the sound coming closer as I make my way down the halls. The darkness is a handicap to all the guards in this place, even with their night vision glasses. But me, I'm in my element. I was made for the dark. And Karma must be backing off for I can still see in the dark.

Gunshots, loud and booming, fill the halls. One blink and they're there. My feet don't fail me, carrying me away, even as a bullet grazes the skin of my shoulder. The sharp pain fills me with the satisfaction of a good chase. I'm zoning in on the end of this level, a platform balcony surrounded by glass overlooks the ground floor. I could take the stairs but in the time it would take me to get down them, the guards would all be surrounding the area.

Without thinking I throw the gun into the glass cracking it in the center. X. That's my target. One hit there and a whole chunk of that glass will fall out leaving me free to jump through. My hands are empty and there's not enough time for me to pick up another projectile. In a moment of thought, I come to my next split second decision. I'll throw myself.

Picking up speed across the room, I put all my power into pushing off my feet and hurtling my body in the direction of that one spot. I'm a rocket heading for the moon, a dart flying towards the center. Eyes closed tight, hands coming to cover my face and I break through.

Shards of glass erupt all around me, raining down into below. They graze my skin, slicing through it in milliseconds. And for a moment, it kicks in that I'm airborne. I'm a god, falling from the sky, prepared to wreak havoc on all who chose to patronize me in my glory, a bomb falling from the sky to kill everything in my far range. My feet kick out, body rotating to find a point of impact. Adrenaline on high, I miss the moment my body connects with the surface, only collecting the fact that I've managed to roll into a ball and that my body is quaking all over, especially my hands and feet.

I don't move for a moment, and for a second, I honestly don't remember how to. Then I hear the gunshots and I'm on my feet again, pushing out of the room, through the lobby, past the front desk, and crashing through the sliding glass doors before the motion sensors even alert them to open. But I can't stop there. My mind, my body, they're on hyper drive. There is no option of stop. I don't know where I'm going or what place I'm coming from. All I know is that I have to get lost. All I know is that I need to be away.

My feet eventually lose themselves beneath my body weight, dropping me to look up into more bright lights. Artificial? No. It's the sun. Glorious, glorious sun. My whole body aches and the pain lighting up my shoulder is a bitch. And I feel good, no, great, no. I'm high. I'm on top of the world. And if I have my way, I'd never come down.

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><p><strong>AN: I love this chapter but i just realized how dumb Grimmjow's escape plan. Kudos to the reader who can figure out the issue that didn't make sense with it. Other than that, I'm really proud of this.<strong>


	4. Chapter 3

**AN: Microsoft word hates my writing style. If you haven't noticed, I do that sentence fragment thing to describe emotions and things as they come, because that's what things sound like in my mind if I want to get the emphasises correctly. But yeah, I actually watched the music video for E.T. during this chapter, which is funny because I actually haven't listened to that song while writing since the prologue. Either way, I loved the video, especially since I recognized the alien at the end of the video because I saw him on the Tyra Show when she was talking about black models with albinism, so I thought the video was artistic genious. But yeah, Enjoy the chapter (there's some kickass zombie action at the end).**

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><p><strong>3<strong>

**Neliel:**

_Dreaming is such a fickle thing. Some people do, some people don't. These images that the mind conjures as we are resting, is a secret that even thousands of years of science could not fully uncover. Dreaming. I've always done it. When I was younger, dreams were my portal out of reality. Nowadays, dreams are terror._

The sun shines over my head, beaming its warmth across my face. Today is supposed to be a good day and lucky for me, the weather seems to feel the same. Cars whiz by in front of the hotel and all the people below look like ants. Traffic is one thing the future will never be able to undo. Not that I'd want it to.

My bags are packed, my passport already on the bed. I don't have much. Never did to begin with. I just want to start over, no strings attached. Where am I headed? Switzerland. For how long? Who knows? Why am I going? They… are neutral ground. Neutral… is good for me. Not to mention it lowers my chances of being found out. If I can just go to a land where no one knows of my prior existence and pretend that all of my life before never happened, then I'd truly be something akin to happy.

I plan to head to the airport at noon exactly, not one minute too late. Make a call to Szayel, tell him good bye one last time, and I'm out of here. These plans bring me so close to destination, but in minutes I feel so far away. Time passes by logged with years of tension and exertion. In no way is my attention span relatively short, but doing nothing was wearing me down.

TV on. Channel: CNN.

A racially ambiguous woman sits on the screen, face grim with the latest news on what the public is referring to as the Z-virus outbreak. Z for zombie, but no one honestly knows what the virus turns its victims into. All I know is what I've seen on TV: they look leap high, are unnaturally strong, are visually offensive, eat normal people, and they eat each other.

Lucky for me, the virus outbreak happened after I had been put under Szayel's care, or else I would be at risk for infection. However, I am not which is good seeing as the total information on the virus is lacking. Plenty of people have their own theories ranging from the virus just passing and receding back into its dormant state to the zombie apocalypse being in the works and the whole world is going to die. Does it affect plants? Who knows? But I do know a secret, a one up on everybody about the virus, probably one of the most dangerous things about me seeing as it is one of the things that Szayel told me that I am under no circumstances allowed to tell anyone. And the secret is…I'm immune.

The TV flashes with a short feed of a group of the infected running through a small town in Texas in the dead of night. The town was close to the state's northern border and nearby military forces were able to make it to the area quickly enough o take down the infected before they could move on to their next destination. 12 dead, 58 injured all 58 newly contaminated victims. According to the news caster, all the injured were taken into military custody to keep them form harming others. Even though the woman never says it, I know what this means. The virus is not only spreading across the country, but its making its way towards spreading out of it. No one has ever come out and said it, but it's blatantly obvious that we are getting to close to facing out biggest secret fear, the virus spreading into neighboring countries.

3 minutes before 12, the program ends. I gather my only suitcase, pull out the extendable handle and wait by the door. My mind is on an erratic countdown, my soul that of an overexcited child. Only 2 more minutes which turns into 60 more seconds, then 3, 2, 1. My hand is already on the doorknob, twisting it open so I can head into the hallway one step into the real world.

I take the lift down into the lobby, an excited skip in my step as I walk. I check out, smiling at the receptionist the whole time. Bypassing the automatic sliding doors, I go through the old school revolvers, enticed by their simplicity. And just like that, I'm out into the city.

The warmth of the sun is hot on my skin, practically glowing in its beauty. Down at the nearest intersection, a man plays the guitar half naked. Across the street, another man selling zombie survival kits. He rants on and on about how it's the end of the world and we should be prepared to fight for our survival. I'm half tempted to buy one, just to see what's in it, but I think against it. All the stuff's probably idiotic anyways.

The city enthralls me, amusing my very soul. I feel like a creature from out of this world, experiencing Earth for the very first time. Everything is so new to me, while at the same time, familiar because I'm positive I've been here before. It's all so confusing but nothing would make me happier than if this moment were to last forever.

Smiling, I hail a cab, actions mimicking those of a woman before me. I climb in back, rambling off the name of the airport. The driver takes off and I watch the buildings swish by like a mini film, a slideshow of a distant past. Its great, fun, lovely. And then we stop moving. A low string of curses slips out the driver's mouth, followed by rushed, irritated words in a foreign language. I glance around, looking into the streets, and am tempted to curse as well. We're in traffic, more so than is normal, even for a terrible accident.

The cab driver rolls down the window to yell to the car next to him, "What's the problem?"

The driver in the cab next to him looks stunned. No. More than that. He looks like he's just been told that he only has three more hours left to live. And then he tells, 2 words slipping out his thin lipped mouth. "Virus outbreak."

I sit there, shocked, dazed, and confused. The words have trouble processing, even in my upgraded mind. Not that I don't understand them, they just don't make sense. Last I checked, the closest encounter of the infected took place in Texas and there's no way that some of them are free and running around the East coast already.

But they are. I know from the sound of shattering glass and the metallic shriek ringing out from the infected, that tortured cry I've heard over and over again on video, that they most definitely are 100% here. I don't have to see the glass breaking to justify it, but I key in on the area almost 3 miles down the road anyways. And its chaos.

The glass of one building has already been broken through, the infected who must have jumped through it ripping people out of there cars. I don't get the chance to zoom into the 10th floor window of the building across the street before that one shatters too. Infectee #2 invades the scene, leaping from the shattered window, landing on a taxi down below, denting the roof and sending its driver into a plethora of helpless screams.

Eyes twitched uncomfortably and I zoom back into normal sights, observing the panicked state of the cab driver. He's still cursing up a storm in a different tongue, now mixed up with the chant of, 'I gotta get outta here.' Behind us is a long line of cars, which I'm sure have the same goal in mind to get out of the area, but due to the traffic, they can't.

I hear another inhumane shriek, this time radiating form a few cars down. There was no way the other two infected got here that fast, meaning that there must be a third, possibly more than that. It crouches on top of a sleek car, hissing madly at all the people around it. They all scream, some rushing out of their vehicles, others getting caught up on the way out, while the ones too frozen in pure terror just sit around and do nothing. Then there's the guy in the vehicle next to the crushed car that runs at Infectee #3, baseball bat in hand.

His face is red, chest heaving, as he swings madly at the creature. For a moment, it looks as if he's about to kill it, smashing its head off in the street, but the weapon is ceased in mid air, the metal shaping to the emaciated creature's bony hand. It rips the bat out of the now panicking man's fingers, effortlessly tossing it through a nearby car's window. In one swift movement, he leaps onto the man, attacking him so quickly it's hard to see what's going on.

Blood spurts out beneath the creature, human legs kicking out wildly, his efforts to break away echoed in his screams. It has no effect and in less than 10 seconds, the man is silent, body still and unidentifiable as something that ever was human.

By this point, the man driving the cab I'm in is desperately trying to evacuate himself from the area just like everyone else. He fumbles with his seat belt, trying to rid himself of it's vice grip. When it finally does get unbuckled Infectee #3 is ready for an accompaniment to the meal he just ate. Eyes tuned in on the cab driver, he leaps. Body paralyzed in fright, I can't figure out how to get my vocals to work. I'm just there watching, watching terror take place before my very eyes. Just like last time.

The oblivious cab driver works on getting the door to open. He finally figures out the mechanics of opening it, one foot out the door, when Infectee #3 punches through the glass of the windshield, hand closing around the driver's neck. It pulls him through, tearing his skin with the not so smooth exit. The creature snaps the man's neck, razor sharp teeth delving into it and I can't stand to watch any longer. Instead, I fumble for my seat belt, unlatching it and sliding over to the door of the car. Door opened, I tumble out, scrambling to my feet in a poor attempt to get away.

Heart pounding in my ears, I've just touched the sidewalk when the creature decides that I should be its next target. It launches itself off the cab, tackling me onto the ground. Rolling over onto my back, I swing blindly at its face, missing completely. My human hand pulls up on its black hair, robotic hand working on pushing its face away from my person and I take this opportunity to take a mental snapshot of what it looks like.

Skin stretches tightly over its body, stretching thinly with its every erratic movement. Its body is emaciated, ribs extremely defined. A gel like coating covers it whole body, not quite slippery but nowhere near adhesive, giving its features a warped glow. Rows of overly sharpened teeth gnash at me in attempts to rip out a chunk of my flesh, mouth hissing, lips dripping what I can only imagine to be saliva. And its eyes, black all around, even in the usual white space, save for a tiny whit dot, trained on me, right in the center of the eye.

Despite the creature's frail outward appearance it was relatively strong pushing back on my arm with an overpowering force. I let go of its hair, striking it across the face a few times to stun it, before rolling on top of it with my full body weight. It shrieked, arms clawing at my skin, as my robotic limb further ground its head into the concrete. Pain rakes down my human arm, tingles down my robotic, but I push it all out of my mind.

I let go of its head momentarily, only to bring my fist smashing down into its face. The screams below me fill my ears as its limbs lash out again. Pain, confusion. For a split second that familiar look runs across its face. Half a second later, it's gone with my fist crushing into its skull once more.

Silence. Around me everybody is gone long gone. Below me lies a once human body. Dead or alive, I don't know. I don't _want_ to know. The pain kicks in, shakes racking my body. My arms are bleeding and I'm sure the same goes for my back and for one moment it's happening all over again. One moment, one second, one minute, I don't know how much time it is, but I let it out. Teeth clenched, I scream, the sound mangled in my throat. And then it's over.

Anxiety floods my body, my brain kicking into auto pilot. I rise to my feet, step over the body, and run. Feet heavy, blood pulsing wildly through my body, lungs on fire. Paranoia. Did anyone see what happened? Was it caught on video? Am I going to be executed?

I run faster, vision blurry. For a moment, I think I'm about to pass out, that I worked my body, mind, and emotions more than they can take. But then I feel the tracks of moisture running down my cheeks, warm kisses on my skin. Tears. Something I haven't shed since my waking and here they are coming down like a water fall.

Alone. Scared. Anxious. I push harder.

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><p><strong>AN: This doesn't really feel up to par with my other chapters but I like it anyways. I'm excited for the next chapter though because they finally meet...oh yeah, and Grimmjow sees an angel. Amazing.<strong>


	5. Chapter 4

**AN: This chapter makes me happy, even though the beginning's feels kinda iffy to me. If the fragment thing concerns you (i.e. you get confused) it's intentionally written that way because that's how it's supposed to find to Grimmjow when he's thinking it. But I'm happy, because he finally meets his mermangel (mermaid and angel combined; they're real; it'll make sense when you read). Enjoy.**

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><p><strong>4<strong>

**Grimmjow:**

The sun shines too brightly on my face. Eyes burn. Body numb. And yet, I still feel like shit. For a moment, I'm at the mercy of the king of assholes. Then I remember that that hell has no sunlight.

I kind of want to get up. Get up and leave. Keep moving. Fingers won't curl, feet refuse to cooperate. Only the automatics seem to want to work with me. Blinking, breathing, heart beating. Hella' fun. I bet I've popped all my stitches, I bet I've lost too much blood. I bet I'm gonna die of blood loss, because I can't move a muscle to save my life.

Bright sun torturing me with its overbearing happiness. I'm brooding and I don't give a fuck. Like a wimp, I'll just sit here and wallow in my sadness, wait to die. Then pain is suddenly wracking up my side, a coughing fit erupting from my lungs. I see an angel. I've just died and gone to heaven because I see an angel…or maybe she's a mermaid.

There's a weight on my chest, crushing and overbearing, sea foam green strands tickling my skin. The angel grumbles, pushing herself up, sending me a confused look. Confused, innocent, frightened. God, I'm in a world of hurt because of her.

Lips moving, u=I force words out. "Get…the fuck…off.' They all come out strangled and muffled. Angry maybe. But she must get the message cause she's up and on her feet in a second.

From this view, she's less angelic. Blood dotting her face, running down her arms, staining her shirt. And I'm pretty sure that it's not all hers. A long scar trails from her hairline to the bridge of her nose and it's brutal. Impure. Tainted. That's how she looks. Except for her eyes. Two hazel pools swimming with apprehension, panic, and innocently naïve sense of hope. But overall….something is off. Off just like me.

"I-I'm sorry," she stumbles out. "I'm really sorry. You're okay, right?"

She's brushing at my clothes as if she's the reason I'm on the ground and covered in blood and dirt. And despite her kindness, I can't get over the fact that she really had just asked me that question. Me, who is in shackles, a bullet having ripped through the skin of my left shoulder, face and arms scratched up with glass, and legs most like a little shaky from that jump I made to the ground floor of the lab. Not the mention the fact that I _know_ I popped some of those poor quality stitches and various wounds are bleeding through my clothes.

She doesn't even have the audacity to look as if she's just said something impossibly wrong. Just stares at me with that pathetic panicky look on her face. I reach the verdict that she's not an angel. She lacks the IQ necessary for the job, especially if she were assigned to be someone's guardian/ Probably would just stand and watch the human she's 'protecting' get mugged, then ask them if they're 'alright' as the culprit runs off with their cash and cards. I bet she'd suck at being a mermaid too.

I try and push her off my person now that I've got some 'feeling' back in my body, making an overly big deal of its unproductivity. "Like, aw shit. I'm _bleeding_." And I don't feel the slightest bit bad for being a total douche about it.

I half expect her to ask me what she's supposed to do about that, but another apology slips out her mouth instead.

"I'm so sorry," she's saying until I'm sick of the word and want it to die a torturously slow death form the English vocabulary. "I'm so, _so _sorry. I mean, I doubt that it's really my fault that you're all wounded, but I just…I can…I can't…"

She rambles on like that for 30 more seconds and I'm sure that if I had the strength, my hand would be over her mouth in hopes of shutting her _up._ Unfortunately, I don't, so I have to stop this verbal train wreck with 'words'.

"Hey, hey, _hey!_" I let out, overly loud to cut her off, despite the fact that he volume physically hurts both my chest and my throat. "You're wasting my time with this crap. If you really want to be helpful, then find me some medical assistance seeing as how I'm obviously in need of it."

Her face seems to light up at the suggestion, the bulb in her head flicking on; though I'm sure her enthusiasm has nothing to do with her concern for my safety. "Yes, a doctor! An ambulance!"

For a moment, I'm almost glad that she's finally got it right. Then I remember that the last place I need to be is around strangers who all have a personal interest in the medical field. They'll either dissect me when they discover that my body structure is somewhat 'different' or ship me back to that hell hole I just got away from. And I'm pretty sure my ex-captor holds a nasty vengeance.

Before she can get up to go make the call, I stop her with an abrupt, "No!"

"No?" She looks confused.

"No," I repeat, and can already see the 'why?' on the tip of her tongue. So I do a quick search around my mind for an at least somewhat viable reason that she'll hopefully be tempted to believe. "Don't trust doctors. Last time I went in for a flu shot, walked out with a prototype vaccine for influenza. Shit messed me up for a week."

The words come out rushed, but I'm not nervous about it or anything, seeing as it's not a complete lie. More so…an _extension_ on the truth. I did go in for a flu shot, just like I said, except that was a prototype in itself, and I did just so happen to walk out with one for influenza, too. And that one _did_ have me be all over the place for a week. I was just a little more 'willing' to take them both than I made off to be. Nonetheless, she looks like she believes it. In fact, it's almost as if my 'truth' frustrates her.

"If you don't want to go to a hospital, then how am I supposed to help you? What? Do you expect me to do it myself?"

Her eyebrows are creased, nose slightly crinkled and for a moment, she almost looks somewhat attractive. Then the wind blows by and it's gone, probably a trick of the light, leaving me to realize that she's actually said something intelligent despite its sarcastic nature.

"Good thinking. _You_ can fix me up." I think it's a good idea even though just the statement alone seems to multiply her frustration times 2.

"You're going in an ambulance." She says it in such a deaden way that it's almost as if she's trying to close out room for argument.

"Come on! Be a good Samaritan!" I try to sway her.

"I _am _being a 'good Samaritan'. I'm getting you an ambulance so you can get proper medical treatment."

"I don't need propped treatment. I just need some form of medical help.'

"And do I look like I have any medical supplies on me? Not even anything for some sub-par mediocre help."

"Then find me someone who does!"

She lets out this sound of irritation; fists clenched like she's going to hit me, a poor innocent injured man, and have zero qualms about it. Does she swing? No. Just slaps her hand over her face and slides it off nice and slow. It's like a flashback to my past, the motion acted out by my old man over 100 times during my childhood. Except the not hitting me part. Because he had no issue with actually doing it.

Her arm swings out, pointing up and down the street. "Do you _see _any people out?" The words come out her mouth so angry-like it's almost funny. But then I realize that she's right. No people, broken glass, and a lot of abandoned cars. What the fuck happened? "A Z-virus outbreak of the infected. They came through a couple miles back."

Z-virus outbreak. I have no idea what the hell that is but by the amount of missing people, destruction, and the blood the pseudo angel's covered in, its not your everyday epidemic. Malaria, smallpox, even anthrax. Whatever this Z-virus is, its gotta be worse.

"You don't know anything about what's happened, do you?" Her face doesn't hold pity; it holds some other look I can't identify with.

"If I stay here, will I die?" My vice is intentionally hoarse, in my attempt to use the danger of this 'virus' to make her feel guilty enough to help me. Low? Maybe. But I've done worse.

Exceeding my expectations for answers, she answers quite frankly. "Yes. You probably will." At least she looks bad about saying it, but still…

"Take me with you." I'm game for trying the pathetic act again. "We can get shelter, you can path me up, and tell me all about this virus." The niceties of my words make me sick, the sensitivity I'm forcing out about the whole thing feeling extremely uncomfortable. "I'm sure you live around here somewhere."

Hazel eyes narrowed, I think she's catching on to what I'm trying to do. "Actually, I don't live anywh-"

I cut her off, pointing to a speeding bullet of yellow far in the distance. 'What's that?"

Her head turns slowly in the direction I'm pointing in, gaze intense. "It's a…it's a…cab?" She sounds confused, her brows furrowed as she turns back to me. "Something's not right here."

And of course she's right. There's an outbreak of this mysterious Z-virus and this guy's just driving down the street like its all fine and dandy. Definitely not normal behavior.

He rolls on down the street. Coming closer, grazing the sides of various vehicles in the process, not even trying to go around them, rather, pushing them all out the way. Then he pulls up to the curb next to us. The paint of the car is all scratched up, the whole body dented, one of his headlights hanging out.

Pseudo-Angel looks up at the driver through the window and I follow her line of sight. The guy driving is a little on the thin side, his skin stretched overly tight on his face, glistening with a light coating of what seems to be morning dew. He's got these faded gray splotches on his skin that seem to be growing. Then he turns to us and gives us a smile, revealing teeth that are sharper than normal, skin stretched impossibly tight over his jaw and cheek bones, face framed with limp, oily blonde hair.

My gaze turns back to Pseudo-Angel, who looks like she's staring death in the face and is scared to go with it. One second later, fear morphs into this sense of precaution. Her guard is up and her whole being sends off this dangerous message that she'll pounce if she has to.

I take another look at the cab driver, this time staring directly into his eyes.

Pitch black pools of ink with a sing dot of white staring right back into me. The only star in this guy's night sky. But that star holds everything I need to know. That look, those eyes…I've seen them before. I've seen them…on me.

Pure animalistic rage and agony. The fact that you're turning into something different and you can't help it. All you can do is act. Act on your impulse. Act on what your anti-conscience wants. Act on what it tells you that you desire.

Feel. The blood pounding through your veins. Watch. The violence about to take place before your very eyes. Imagine. You are on top of the world. Hate. What you've become and everyone around you. Destroy. Whatever you can get your hands on. Kill. The very happiness of your own being.

In those few seconds, I see the driver, I see myself. No. I see more than myself. A Square is a rectangle, but a rectangle isn't a square. That's how this is working. I see me in him, but he is me times 400. No filter, mind slipping and hungry for something my anti-conscience never wanted. But what is more than more? The fact that whoever this guy used to be is dead. And he ain't ever coming back.

That moment is all I need. All I need to know what is about to happen. That Z-virus. That's what this guy has. Incurable, inoperable. And its over, I'm done for, and Pseudo-Angel's done for too. I mean, I could always let the guy attack her and limp away to safety while he's busy and hope for the best on her part. In fact, I almost do. But instead, I act on my impulse, on the real conscience inside me.

"Move!" My word to her stationary waiting body as the driver leaps out the car.

And the whole world ceases motion.

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><p><strong>AN: The whole time I was typing this, I kept thinking about other things like how when Grimmjow's trying to convince Nel to fix him up herself, he sounds like one of those bugs in an Orkin (sp?) commercial and the way the taxi driver is described driving reminds me of the way the dud in the "I am mayhem" All State commercials.<strong>

**Oh and about the last part where Grimmjow's staring into the infected guy's eyes that's sort of like a half flashback to what he's experienced ad what he's seeing in the other dude. It'll make more sense later on down the line (hopefully). And the infected guy hasn't finished going through the change yet (hence, why he's driving and stuff).**


	6. Chapter 5

**AN: I have no idea what I was thinking trying to do 3 different stories at the same time, but whatever. I'm not slacking too bad, seeing as how this one is my favorite. Would I consider it my love child? No. But I will say it does have my best plot line. So yeah, I'll warn you all in advance that this chapter does have more of the bloody kind of action to it, but I'm not sure if I got it right, so if you have any advice or concerns please feel free to let me know, because this type of writing is totally out of my element. Hope you all enjoy anyways.**

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><p><strong>5<strong>

**Neliel:**

"Move!"

The sound waves travel, entering my ear canals, registering in my brain as the words they represent. In front of me the cab driver is mid air, glass shattering down from the window he has tore out of. Mouth open to bore all his teeth, ready to kill anything and anyone he comes in contact with, he is the essence of fear. On instinct I lunge to the side, leaving him to drop into the spot where I stood mere moments before.

He looks wildly between me and the blue haired man, face snarling, registering a fact so dangerous it sends a chill of threat down my spine. This infectee is still at least somewhat coherent. I doubt that he still retains the ability of any sort of higher level thinking, or even the ability of speech, but as far as basic rationalizing goes, he has more of that than all the others.

Pitch black eyes lock with mine and I know that he's chosen to take me out first. I plant my feet in the ground, centering myself, waiting for him to pounce. Two seconds later, he does, feet pushing off the ground, shooting him off the ground like a speeding bullet. My left arm cocks back, ready to knock into him with full force. If he really has does have some reasoning skills left, then he's not fully changed yet. And if he's not fully changed, then he's not at full power. Therefore taking him out shouldn't be too difficult as long as this fight doesn't extend to long, for with ever second, he grows stronger.

In a quick moment he's face to face with me, my fist pistoning forward as his hand reach out for my already war torn skin. He's fast, fingers and nails digging into my right arm. But I'm faster and, at the moment, I'm stronger, too. My clenched fist rams into the side of his face, his spit flying, a metallic high pitched shriek ripping out his mouth as his head snaps sharply to the right with a sickening crack. He stumbles back, head still turned to the side at a disgusting angle, sharp fingers tearing out of my arm, bringing my flesh and blood with them.

Hissing in pain, I watch the infected driver carefully. He stalks back, white pupils boring into my black ones. He circles a bit before pausing, his newly crooked head sharply turning straight, leaving the cracking sound resounding through the air from a movement that would send any normal person into tears with pain. He charges, teeth gnashing, ferocity on high. My left arm shoots up on its own, taking the impact of the hit that he had prepared for my face. He pushes on the robotic limb, trying to force it to break, leaving it my force against his. My feet plant them selves in the ground once more, steadying my body and I push off, putting all my body's force onto that one arm, pushing against his hand.

For a moment, we're almost equally balanced and I know if I push just a little bit harder it'll all be a cakewalk from here. Then he brings his other hand up, eyes flashing wildly. I make to pull back, retreat, _anything_, but he's faster, free arm launching onto my human right. He pushes, his force slowly overcoming mine, my feet sliding back, the friction of my shoes against the ground rumbling up calves. And I know he's got me.

For a moment I allow myself to think that that's all there is to it. I push, he pushes harder, and it all goes down from there. But at least on my defense, he can't attack me if he's to busy trying to push me back.

I look over the infected driver's shoulder, taking a quick glance at the blue haired guy who I had forgotten was on the street. He's glaring at the scene in front of him with a fierce intensity. Wild. Crazed. Angry. It's all there in his eyes. I look into those of the infected man in the process of taking me down. And it's in his too. Of course it harsher, more empty, yet at the same time, it's the exact same look.

Startled doesn't even begin to describe how off putting this discovery is. It doesn't even scratch the surface. But whatever I feel for that moment is enough. Enough for me to give the cab driver all the opening that he needed.

Fingers clench down around my arms tighter than ever. He pivots to left, dragging me with him, my feet sliding a centimeter off the ground with the movement. And before they can touch down again, he makes a sharp right, letting me go this time, flinging me off into the street.

Gliding. I can barely even register the fact that I am airborne; barely register the fact that I should be doing something to fix that. My mind races, too fast for the human body that it's trapped within to handle. _Move._ It sends the sole message down to my robotic arm, the limb jutting out scraping against the ground and taking the initial impact of the fall, palm first. Tingles rack up the limb in a pitifully synthetic of the pain that I should be feeling there. I slide into home, my other arm coming out behind the robotic, palm tearing against the rough asphalt. My shirt rides up, leaving my sides exposed to the power of excessive friction on skin, sending mini waves of pain up my body.

I mange to stop myself, the force of inertia finally letting up for me. My head's pounding, my mind on rapid fire, drawing up quick tidbits of unnecessary information. Groaning, I roll onto my back, trying to catch my breath. I'm bleeding up a storm and my body's burning with pain, not to mention the fact that there's an injured guy left all alone with a very 'hungry' infected cab driver who'll be happy to tear him into pieces before doing whatever it is these guys do with dead people if I don't get my butt into gear.

Body aching, I rise to my feet, eyes wildly scanning for the blue haired man and the infectee. I see the cab first, the yellow almost blinding in its color, then, not a moment too soon, the infected who is now approaching the injured guy.

I move. The infected moves. But I'm at least 12ft. away and my legs are 100% human. I force myself to move faster, but going up against that…well, even I know my limits. And for some reason, the blue haired man just sits there, unmoving, not the slightest bit of fear on his face. In fact, it's almost as if he's welcoming this impending doom, taunting it, telling it to come at him with all he has to offer.

"_Run_!"

The word slips out of my mouth and I don't know if they register with the man or not. He just sits there, a smirk on his face, animalistic and primal in nature. Then the cab driver kicks off, throwing himself into the man, attacking with wild abandon. I leap. He leaps. But I'm the on who's too late.

There's a choked scream, guttural and helpless and angry all at the same time. Blood, lots of blood, flies out, staining everything near in deep red. In front of me the infected driver shakes, quivers, growls coming out of his mouth, before convulsing one last time and falling limp. A bloody hand pokes out his back, supporting his body. Then it too pulls out leaving the dead man, thing, _infected_ to fall to the ground.

Silence. Complete and deafening silence ringing out in my ears. I go back, my head swimming under, taking me to places I never want to revisit. First to that street where the infected I killed is possibly still lying. Then, to that year, that day, that moment my life ended before leaving me to rest at my waking when everything seemed new and confusing and so naively pure. But it's all in my head. I'm still her. On this street. Where it is completely and utterly silent.

The blue haired man in front of me lets out a low whistle, breaking the silence's spell. I'm thankful but I choose not to let him know that. I just look at him, bright blue hair wild and splashed with blood. Azure eyes wild and sated, the two clashing together nicely inside of him. A lazy grin stretched across his face. He just wipes his hand off on his already stained shirt, gaze meeting mine.

"Hey Angel," he says. "You look like shit."

I look at him in all his rough glory and am certain that I don't look any worse than he does. I allow him a small smile, making my way over, trying to pretend that the dead body next to him doesn't disturb me. I lean against the cab checking my wounds. My right arm's all scratched and bleeding, full of cuts of all different shapes and sizes. My left arm on the other hand is fine, despite the fact that a lot of my 'paint' has gotten chipped and/or rubbed off, which is a pretty hard feat. My whole abdominal area is probably roughed up and I know the bruises that will form there will be ugly. But as far as fighting off two genetically mutated humans goes, I'm not as bad as I could be. Just tired. Really tired and in pain. But I still have more than enough in me to go around.

"What now?"

It's a good question. A good question tat I have yet to find a good answer too seeing as my previous plans have been put…on _hold_. But that doesn't mean I can't try to speculate some sort of 'conclusion'. "Who knows, really. But I'm guessing there are more of-" I motion towards the now ex cab driver with my foot, "-_them_ in this area seeing as I've already come across one myself. If we stay here, we'd both pretty much be signing our own death sentence."

"So all your really saying is our only option is to get the hell outta' here?" I nod warily. "So this means you have to fix me up now, right?"

Blink. That's all I do, all I _can_ do. Because, really, how can he _still _be on that? "Insufferable," I whisper out, not really caring if it was quiet enough for him to miss it or not. But in the end I suppose I do owe him for…saving…my life, if you could really call it that. Technically it was his life he saved, seeing as how he was out of most of the fight with his injuries, which does make me wonder how he managed to pull the finishing move. Curious. Truly curious. "Fine. I'll…'help' you," I give in, my voice at an audible level.

He nods slowly, that bum grin still stretched across his face. I wait for him to say something, _anything_, to represent a customary 'thank you'. His eyebrows raise in what appears to be a mix of curiosity and amusement; almost as if he's wondering what _I'm_ waiting for. Like he's expecting something from me.

"Shouldn't you be doing something right now?" he asks.  
>"Like what?" A question for a question, only mine happens to have more of an exasperated air to it.<br>"I don't know…but I'll just throw out something crazy like _finding a way out of here so we can _not_ be attacked by another one of those things_. You know, something like that, but I'm just giving off ideas. It's what I'm here for. Ask me anything."

I don't answer, just roll my eyes and look around for a "way out of here so we can-"…what he said. Unfortunately, or possibly in our good fortune, the place is a ghost town, all the buildings emptied out and not an average life form in sight. If there are any people around, then they're all hiding and, with the way me and my new friend are looking now, I doubt they'd even consider lending either of us a hand. But then again, that could be a good thing since that leaves our best ticket out of here in a state that would make them easy to obtain. And this ticket happens to be the invention known to man as the automobile, or better known as the car.

I mentally go back to what could have been a mere hour ago when the first attack had happened right before my eyes. Traffic was all backed up, everybody was spazzing out, throwing caution to the wind, and hopping out of their respective vehicles to get the hell out of their as quickly as their body's would allow. No one was thinking, just acting on what 'felt right', which meant that a lot of perfectly fine cars were left where they sat, keys in and battery running. I look into the broken driver's side window of the cab I'm leaning against and, just as I expected, the keys are still in the ignition. Is it running? No. But if I'm lucky, that won't be too much of fix.

Opening the door I hop on inside, examining the interior. Brown leather covered seats, stained with age and, in some areas, blood. Fuzzy dice hang from the rear view mirror and a plethora of scratches litter both the windshield and all the windows. All in all, it's a total piece of crap, but on such short notice, I suppose it's doable. What I need to know is if it's _useable_. So I simply take a good look at the key in the ignition, searching for a print pad which unfortunately happens to be there. The luck has to end somewhere.

Print pads are now officially on hit list, along with all the inventors who thought it would be _such a good idea_. When they first came out it was great seeing as how the rate of grand theft autos had somehow managed to sky rocket and everyone wanted to be able to thoroughly protect what they paid the equivalent of a second house for. So what better way to protect your car than to make it so your finger print is needed to steal it, meaning that a car jacker would either have to be violent enough to force you to comply (which means probably knocking you out or cutting off hand) or they'd have to be some sort of tech wizard who can hack into your cars system. Considering that, it's not hard to believe that the rate of car thefts went down and most of the previous robbers found something else to steal.

All car owners had to was just upload your prints to your car's system and you automatically have selective access to who has permission to use your ride. There are usually two different sets of scanners that operate with car, one being on the driver and passenger's side doors and the other being the one that runs with the key. Upload the prints of anyone who you'll trust with errands that include your car, and they can get in. But if they want to take it somewhere, they'll still need the key. Easy as that.

Nowadays, pretty much everyone has the little print system with their car, whether it came with it or not. So my only chance of finding a car now, would to be to find one of the few cars that _doesn't_ have a fancy high tech system.

"You gonna steal that?"

The question startles me, seeing as I had momentarily managed to forget that I wasn't the only person here. Not only that, but I also find said other person's phrasing to be less than pleasant. "I wasn't going to _steal_ anything. I was just going to _borrow_ it. Besides, its one of those print activated ones and its owner's fingers happen to be in a demented state."

He chuckles a bit at my words, the sound smooth and low. It's a nice enough laugh…as far as laughs go. "Well then check the glove box."

"Why?"

"_Why_?" he mimics, voice overly high pitched and sounding nothing like mine. "So you can see if he has anything potentially useful in there, that's why. Money, weapons, bandages, antiseptic spray. Go crazy."

I brush off his high and mighty tone, sliding into the passenger's seat, popping open the glove box. 20 dollars, an ID card, a family photo, 3 ink pens, a bottle of Aspirin, and an old school letter opener. Yep, went real crazy there. I take the cash, the Aspirin, and the letter opener, pretending not to notice the other more personal items. I almost don't want to be reminded of the fact that that man out there, the one who was turned into something wildly inhumane, once was just a normal person. A normal person with a wife, kids, a home, and pets. Kind of makes me feel bad, even though he had died before he and the blue haired man had ever even met.

"Find anything?" My new 'companion' calls out.

I open the door and slide out of the car, walking around to the other side where he's at. "Not much," I answer. "Just 20 bucks, pain meds, and a letter opener which I suppose could fall under the 'weapons' category." I don't plan on telling him about the picture, choosing to move on to a more important subject. "We're gonna need to find another ride." I look up and down the street, noticing a key factor here. "Unfortunately there aren't a lot of cars here that weren't totally trashed by the cab or are old enough to not be print activated. Though I'm pretty sure there are some leftovers from deserted traffic around here somewhere. I guess I'll go look and you stay here?"  
>"Fuck no," comes his immediate answer. "I've seen this movie and I know how that ends. <em>'Let's split up."<em> Yeah, why don't you just attach a giant sign that says easy target to me while you're at it and call it a day, huh? Where ever you go, I'm going to. It's safer that way. Now help me up."

"You play a bad Mr. Defenseless," I say, making my way over to him. "But I suppose you do have a point. Just don't pass out or anything or so help me I swear I will drop you and leave you in the middle of the road."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," he says as I help him up, putting most of the weight onto my artificial limb. "I don't know if you heard this before, but Angel, you talk way too damn much when no one wants to hear it."

I snort at the irony of his words, in reference to both what he called me, and my amount of speech, deciding to let the latter go. "I'm not an angel, nor is that my name."

"So then what is it?"

"Nel. Nel Tu. And you?"

"Grimmjow. Just Grimmjow."

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><p><strong>AN: I've got 3 things to say. 1) I completely pulled that whole finger print with the car thing out my ass so if you need any clarification on it, feel free to ask because I'm not a techie. I mean, I think it is something that could happen in the future but it would suck if someone broke your window and hopped in your car. I mean, they couldn't steal it, but they could steal everything in it (As seen by Nel). Plus any of your friends whose prints are "compatible" could do the same. 2) I think in the future $20 is going to be worth 10 bucks (I can tell stories like my granddad does which go a little like "when I was a kid you could fill up your car and by a bar of chocolate for only one dollar." <strong>_**Sure, gramps, sure**_**.) And 3) There's a reason for why Grimmjow managed to take out that infected person while he was seriously injured, so I wasn't just doing something that made no sense in the plot line. It makes none now, but it will be revealed in the future (like next chapter.)**


	7. Chapter 6

**AN: Whew! It has been a while! And I can honestly chalk that up to me forgetting that I had ever even wrote this in the first place, even though it has my favorite concept when compared to everything else I've written. Luckily, I am reinvested in it. Not only that, but I also won a free laptop today so I can update more often and stop bumming off other people's computers. And this new chapter is the very first thing I typed on it when I picked it up today. Regardless, the chapter is a little slow. But I promise a little more energy in the next one (because ass kicking or anything of the like just doesn't fit in this chapter).**

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><p><strong>6<strong>

**Grimmjow:**

By the time me and the pseudo angel (whose name is Nel) find a car, the sun's on the brink of setting. Now I'm not really any sort of scientist or specialist on the way this "Z-virus" works, but I _have _seen a lot of horror films. In fact, I've seen more than enough to know that when shit like this is going down, it's a terrible idea to be outside in the dark. So am I scared? _Hell_ no! I'm just smart enough to know better than to go looking for danger and danger just so happens to be those infected dudes.

Despite my precautions, I hop into the old beater that we found, not even bothering to strap in due to my current cuffed predicament. If we have no other place to be then I'd rather take the shelter of a car over no shelter at all, yet I can't help noticing how much I dislike the new ride. I mean give me a break man. I haven't been in a car in _ages _and this is the first one I'm exposed to. On the plus side though, I'll admit we're lucky we even got it.

The car's old. Not horribly so, but its old enough that the driver had to give it all the recent updates manually. Most cars come with the new built in security systems so if you were to find some way to break into the car you wouldn't be able to drive off in it. This dude must have spent all his money making his car "fuel efficient" and didn't have enough left over to purchase scanners. And to our luck (i.e. his misfortune) he left his keys in the ignition to run for his life.

"So, what now?" I ask Nel, fidgeting within my confines. The blood from that infected managed to begin drying under my cuffs, making the skin there itch like hell.

She starts the car, sighing when it begins to hum, gripping the steering wheel tightly and in the exact driver's manual locations. "I don't exactly know. I have a friend though. He's a doctor. I guess I can call him up and then have him fix you, but then you're on your own."

"Fine by me." And it really was. I'd accomplished my goal of breaking out of that place and now I planned on kicking back and lounging somewhere sunny, maybe check out the beach. Sweet, sweet freedom. I can almost feel it.

I imagine myself in sunny California or maybe even Malibu while Nel drives, popping out of my day dream as she slows to a stop by convenience store. She sits there, not making any move to get out, only gazing ahead of her.

"You can't make the car move by staring at the road, you know. You have to put your foot on the gas pedal," I tell her, getting a kick out of the nasty glare she sends my way.

"I'm not trying to telepathically move the car. I want to use the phone in that store." She points over at it with her not metal hand over in the direction of the aged building.

"Then why don't you?"

"It's closed."

I raise an eyebrow, wondering if she's serious. "_So?_"

"It's _closed_."

_Oh God._ I inwardly groan, rolling my eyes at the ridiculousness of the situation. "You just _stole_ a _car_ and you're freaking out about going into a closed store. It's not even like you're going to steal more shit! I mean how much worse can you do?"

"It was your idea to steal the car!" she shrieks, voice half hysterical, and I can tell she's one of those kids who never even dared to take an extra candy bar out the bowl on Halloween when some dude just left his bowl on the porch.

"And the fact that you listened to what I said says exactly what's wrong with this situation. I'm in handcuffs, or had you not noticed that when you were going through with my ideas?"

Her face goes red and I can tell she's inwardly battling with herself about what to do. Almost feeling kind of sorry for her, I decide to help her out. "Alright, don't go having an aneurism over there. Here's what we're going to do. I'll break in and flip the sin to open and you follow after me and use the phone. If by some stroke of cursed fate the cops show up, which they won't, you can tell them that you thought the store was open."

I ease the door open with little difficulty, stepping into the street, listening to Nel's complaints of how stupid my plan is, despite the fact that she's made no action to not follow through with it. I cross over to the store, looking at its glass and then to my wounds. I may not be feeling it at the moment, but I'm in pretty bad shape if the way most of my stitches are torn are anything to go by. Regardless, I was never known for not doing reckless and I'm pretty sure I can get at least one good swing in.

Stepping back I try to level my ground. Arms swing back, then forwards, gaining inertia along the way. There's a loud crash followed by a series of tinkling as the glass shatters and falls to the ground at my feet and on the other side of the now busted window. My arms burn, little shockwaves of pain shooting down them in the opposite frequency of my aching chest.

Brushing off the pain, I step through the entry way. First things first, I flip the closed sign to open and unlock the door. "There ya' go, angel. It's all yours."

Her eyes roll as she makes her way in heading for the phone at the checkout counter. As she calls her little friend-friend, I walk down the aisles looking for anything I may need. I grab a basket, the object resting awkwardly in my grasp as I make my way through the store picking up random shit. Bandage, Pop Tarts, soup, a soda, pain killers, jerky. You know, all the necessities.

"He's not picking up," I hear from behind me. I turn to face Nel, who immediately begins eyeing the basket cautiously, not directly saying anything about it. I ignore her look and keep stocking up.

"So then what do you plan to do, cause in case you haven't noticed, I have glass all in my arms, my stitches are all fucked up, I'm homeless, and this place is a ghost town." I drop the basket at my feet, finally looking up at her.

"I don't really know." She says it all quiet like, as if it's supposed to double as an apology and make up for the fact that I'm in pain and life sucks for everybody. I don't know what to do now, she doesn't know what to do now, hell, I doubt anyone knows what to do now. And just as I'm thinking this she sighs, leaning to pick up the basket. "I guess I better get some tweezers and a needle now, huh?"

So we end up "borrowing" a shit load of stuff from whoever owns that store, and on my part, that includes the register. We get in the car and its dark out, all the street lights on as if they'll warn away all that could come out to get us. At this point I'm fine with just hanging out in some motel out of town, but Nel insists we stay close to where her doctor friend is so we can go visit him tomorrow.

* * *

><p>An hour later we actually are at a motel, but it's nothing like what I had envisioned in my mind. For one, it's really shitty, but we could break into the room easily and it has cable and electricity so we had to settle. The clock says its only 9:38 but it feels as if it's been 3 months by the time we settle in.<p>

"This fucking sucks," I let out, after we'd been sitting in silence for half an hour. "I finally make my way out of my own personal hell, just to be thrust back into a world that's on a one stop ticket there."

"Well, that's sort of what happens when the country becomes exposed to some whacked up virus that spreads like wild fire," she says back slowly, walking over to the front of the room that we barricaded with a musty couch to warn us in case of another "attack". She returns with a pair of tweezers, a mini sewing kit, and a first aid kit, motioning over to the bed. "I better get this glass out before your skin does anymore healing than it already seems to have started."

She sighs, looking down at my cuffs. "I'm almost curious of what you did to get these," she says absentmindedly before grabbing onto them and pulling them close to her. As she examines them closely I watch her eyes. They're a nice hazely-tan-ish-caramel color, but the interesting part is how they move. It's like watching someone twist nobs to zoom in on something. They're glowing and turning and its…_electric_. She finishes doing whatever weird-as-fuck shit she was doing with her eyes, and from the way her cheeks heat up when she realizes I was looking, I know she hadn't intended for me to notice what was going on.

Her robotic hand reaches over, pulling out a needle before drawing it over to the cuffs and shoving it in. I hear a click and then feel as if my skin is being torn off as the cuffs try to unlatch themselves from the crusted blood that has them glued to my skin. I rip my arms out, the pain flaring like when you tear off a band aid before ultimately subsiding.

"What the hell was that?" I ask, rubbing at my wrists. I'll admit it, I'm somewhat amazed by what she's just done.

"I overrided the system. The cuffs are totally electronic so don't actually have a physical lock to be picked, but if you wear to disrupt the connection inside of them, there'd be nothing to command over to the other side that the two halves needed to stay together. So I put a block in the most vulnerable part and it simply "spazzed out" leaving it to ultimately fall apart."

She says it all like its easy in every sense of the word. In fact, it almost sounds as if she were trying to dumb it down for me. Of course, I make no remark about it, seeing as this woman's about to play doctor for me, and trust when I say I've made my fair share of insults towards the people in charge of my health and I know for a fact that those guys are passive aggressive. They will make the healing process as painful as possible, and despite how innocent Nel may seem…well, it's always the innocent ones.

She pulls my left arm out towards her, tweezers in hand. "I'm about to pull the glass out," she says softly. "Turn on the television. It'll make the pain less distracting."

I turn it on, flipping through the channels, wondering what she could be doing that would cause the need for a distraction. And then I feel it, the pain rushing through my skin. The horrible part is that that's not even in the portion where the skins began to heal.

I turn my attention back to the TV where some chick is talking on the news, the word "Z-virus" printed in bold catching my attention. I turn it up.

"…And on a stroke of bad luck, our nation's crisis known as the Z-virus has spread faster than we predicted. Previously the collection of recent attacks had been happening down south, but in the span of less than 24 hours they've managed to spread up the Eastern coast. As of now an active quarantine has been placed under the following high risk locations appearing on the screen below.

"It is recommended that everyone that has is close to these regions move onto the nearest safe zone. If you cannot move onto a safe zone, find a reinforced location to take up stay in. Keep your doors and windows barricaded and your profile low. If any of the infected sees sign of living they can and will attack…"

The report went on, listing the areas under quarantine and posting a map of all of the areas that had been exposed to the virus, our very location flashing in orange. Yellow meant exposure. Red meant high risk area that most likely is quarantined. And we're in the middle. It's only a matter of time before our location becomes too dangerous. It's only a matter of time before they lock us in here.

I effectively bristle at the thought, startling Nel who's in the middle of pulling out the last piece of glass in my arm. It tears through the skin causing more blood to spill and me to curse.

"Sorry…sorry…sorry…" She's back on her apologizing spree and I realize how much this situation sucks. We've locked ourselves up in a cheap motel room in an area that's going into quarantine soon. Crazy Z-virus dudes are roaming the streets, I think my current care taker is some sort of robot, and the whole country is under self-attack. Life is currently shit.

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><p><strong>AN: That last line is an offspring from one of my favorite books, Fat Kid Rules the World. Anyways, I think this turned out kind of alright, but I'm going to buy a map tomorrow so I can keep up with all the locations being exposed to the virus. At the moment I haven't actually released the location of where Grimmjow and Nel are because I haven't road mapped where they're going next, so that's why I'm getting the map….and because planning out what areas of my homeland I'm giving this virus to and to what degree sounds kind of fun….<strong>


End file.
